Slick's quadrants
by Madamenobody
Summary: Slick is bored, and the only thing to do is fill in that weird paper AH gave him. How could this possibly go wrong? SlickPaint one-shot.


**This is set before Lord English attacks AH. Just a one shot I thought up when I was walking the neighbors dog. :3**

"Absolutely not." Those where the words Slick had used when Andrew Hussie had given him that stupid paper.  
It had four squares on it, each with a different symbol. AH had told him to fill in the squares with the people he thought fit best in them. That b*****d had already filled in his own face, giving himself the position of best friend.  
Slick glared at the paper. It was next to his nightstand, so he could use it if he got bored. That's what AH had said anyway. Slick had no intention whatsoever of playing a stupid game like that. But still…  
Slick growled the way most people would groan. There was _no way_ he would do it. He wasn't _that _bored. Besides, he wasn't a troll.  
He muttered a curse under his breath. Where was that dame? Ms. Paint usually came about this time in the evening to "cheer him up." Whatever the h*ll that was supposed to mean. Sitting in the same bed for hours on end did get a little boring if he didn't have anyone to talk to. He muttered again.  
That stupid paper was looking at him. He could feel it. Oh, gosh, he was so bored. He fidgeted. **_Fine_**, but only this once. And only because that dame was late. That dame. That dame was the bane of his existence. He contemplated this though for a moment. Okay, not the bane of his existence, that was reserved for Snowman.  
Bluh, bluh, huge-no, let's not get into that woman right now. Slick swiped up the paper and set it in front of him. He picked up the pencil. Who goes where?  
Well, AH had claimed the best friend slot. So that took care of that. Slick didn't want to go to the trouble of erasing and redrawing a picture.  
Slick tapped one of the slots. This was the one reserved for the person you hate most in the world. Well, Snowman, obviously. He drew a picture of her face, with a nasty expression and his signature words for her. All right, done.  
Uh….He stared at the other slot. This was for the person who tried to get you to stop fighting or something. Slick hadn't really been listening when AH had explained everything. It was a "black" quadrant, meaning negative emotion or some troll crud like that. Whatever. He drew an intentionally bad picture of Doc Scratch.  
There, done. Slick looked down at his paper. Well, not quite done. There was a slot left. This one is for the person you love most. Slick glared down at it. Hmm. He remembered he had forgotten to draw Ms. Paint. But…Did she belong there? Well, it didn't really matter. He only had this slot to fill in and then he was done. He might have put her in the best friend square, but AH had gotten rid of that possibility.  
Slick began drawing. He found himself working hardest on this picture for some reason. As he drew, it became important that this drawing represented her beauty and-wait what? Slick stopped. Since when did he start harboring feelings like that?  
_ I mean, yeah, she's a pretty decent dame, but….Well, it's not like it matters. Nothing will ever come of it. _Slick thought. He got back to work. It was nothing like what Ms. Paint made, it was actually pretty terrible. But it was good for his purpose. He got more involved in his drawing then he'd gotten involved in almost anything since he'd been here. Before he knew it, it was the time AH usually came to make sure he went to bed. But Slick didn't notice.  
And Slick didn't notice when Ms. Paint came in with a gentle knock. He didn't notice when she asked him what he was doing. And he didn't notice as she walked closer. He noticed when she touched his knee and looked down at his paper though. He realized he was sitting in a very childish way, criss-cross-apple-sauce, hunched over his black and red paper. For a moment, he was too stunned to move. The girl he was drawing as his Matespriwhamacallit was STANDING RIGHT THERE!  
"Slick, what are you doing?" Ms. Paint asked again, jerking him out of his temporary paralysis. He yelped and put his hands over his paper. But she had already seen most of it. "Oh, Andrew must have given you some quadrants to fill out. They're very nice."  
Ms. Paint smiled at Slick. He flushed. Or he would've, had that been biologically possible.  
"Uh….What are ya doing here, dame? AH is the guy who comes check up on me." Slick changed the subject.  
"Well, he's a little busy, and earlier I couldn't come visit you. So I thought maybe you wanted to talk for a few moments before going to bed." She said. She sat down on the edge of his bed.  
Slick was trying really hard to keep his cool. He had next to no experience dealing with girls in a positive way. He was still covering his paper with his hands.  
_D*mn it, Slick! Why didn't you think about the implications of your drawing?! You're basically saying she's the love of your life!_ Slick thought.  
"No, I don't want to talk. Go away." He snapped. He was looking down at his paper, making sure to keep it covered. He heard her sigh. He felt a strange feeling in his midsection. He pondered what it could be. Not love, he was pretty sure of that. For a moment he wondered if it was guilt. He couldn't remember ever feeling that before now, but it was possible.  
"I like your picture. May I see it again?" She asked. Slick panicked. She was talking in that _d*mned sweet voice_, the one that made her seem all innocent.  
Before he could stop Ms. Paint, she gently pulled the paper out from under his fingers. She looked at the paper. She smiled a little. She looked up at Slick and opened her mouth to say something. Before she could, however, Slick interrupted.  
"I got bored. It don't mean nothing." He snapped. He reached out for the paper and snatched it back. "And AH messed it up anyway; he put himself in the Mwuralspot."  
Ms. Paint shook her head a little.  
"Okay, Slick." She said. Her tone was the one she used when she was pretending to believe one of Slick more improbable stories.  
"Hey!" He objected. "What's that mean?"  
"What's what mean, Slick?"  
"You know what! The little 'okay Slick.' That's the tone you use when you don't believe me!" Slick was aware that his voice was sounding a little childish. He could see she was trying hard not to smile.  
"It doesn't mean anything. Now, it's time for bed, I think." Ms. Paint said. She stood up and took a step towards the door. Slick grabbed her wrist. He jerked her back and she landed next to him on the bed.  
"That meant something, dame. Tell me." His voice was even more petulant than normal. Ms. Paint tried to pull her wrist away, but Slick held on. Ms. Paint sighed.  
"It means that sometimes you don't always pay attention to what's happening around you. Even when it's extremely obvious."  
Slick was startled. What did _that_ mean? Was there something going on here that he wasn't aware of? Was AH slipping something into his food? Was-  
Ms. Paint slid her wrist out of his now loose grip. He looked at her. She leaned forward and before he could say a word, she kissed him of the forehead. It was just a peck, but it was more than enough to render the black carpiecen speechless.  
She stood up again.  
"It's really time for bed. Good night, Slick." She left the room, gently flicking off the light as she closed the door behind her.  
Slick sat in the dark, gapping. Now _what_, in the name of Derse, Prospit, and Skia, did _that _mean?

Ms. Paint closed the door behind her. She leaned against it, and slid to the floor, attempting to muffle her giggles. Slick really was oblivious sometimes, wasn't he?

There it is! What do you think? Hey, I know, tell me in the comments! The little box right down there. Oh, and tell me if I made any mistakes, I'd hate to do that.


End file.
